


What You Need

by HogwartsToAlexandria



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Allison Cameron Knows What She Wants, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Breast Worship, Creampie, Episode Tag, Episode: s01e20 Love Hurts, F/M, First Time, Greg House is Bad With Emotions, One Night Stands; Or Is It?, Vaginal Sex, porn what plot/porn without plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:00:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29218368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HogwartsToAlexandria/pseuds/HogwartsToAlexandria
Summary: Cameron knows he likes her. House knows he doesn't. Who's right? Does it matter when it ends up with the two of them in bed with no thought of tomorrow? House does like to be right, but Cameron is nothing if not determined.
Relationships: Allison Cameron/Greg House
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	What You Need

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Highlander_II](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Highlander_II/gifts).



He may have picked a shirt and bought flowers, he may have asked Wilson for advice and complimented Cameron's earrings, and shoes, their date is still a disaster. How could it have been anything but. 

House watches her face slowly morph into one of disappointment. That look she gets when a patient is rude, or Chase is being an ass on purpose, or she realizes that once more, House's choices don't align with her perfect view of how the world should turn. He didn't realize it would be this crushing, being shown how, empirically, he isn't cut out for this dating crap. He likes her, it's not even that, Cameron is everything a guy should want — except for the boobs, maybe, could be bigger — and yet here he is, faking enthusiasm about things he doesn't give two shits about, and she knows it. She knows it and she confronts him and things could go one or two ways. He could crush her just as he feels crushed, or he could stay silent. He could probably crack a joke too, or pop some vicodin, but something tells him Cameron's eyes are a little too earnest for either when she says,  _ "I wanna know how you feel, about me." _

It's such a genuine, bare demand. Such a raw appeal to House's basest instinct to hurt the vulnerable, so she doesn't hurt him first. He doesn't do any of those things. He clears his throat. He pinches the bridge of his nose. And then he makes a shitty decision. He could hear Wilson scream at him from space if he didn't intentionally put Mind Wilson on mute. 

He cocks his head, gives Cameron a tight smile to which she frowns, and asks, not waiting for her response before getting up, "Wanna get out of here?" 

They haven't eaten anything, and House couldn't care even if he did. He doesn't think she's following him outside the restaurant, through rows of tables of respectable morons delighting in the small talk he hates, through doors that make him lean on his bad leg with how heavy they are to open, through a parking lot that's lit up with pinkish light that might as well belonged to a strip club — that, at least, would have had the potential to be fun. 

"Your place or mine?" Cameron's voice surprises him right as he reaches his bike. 

He turns around to see her, arms crossed over her chest — nice cleavage actually — and looking at him with an air of defiance he knows all too well, except for once, it's hot instead of annoying. Somehow, it makes him smile a lot more truthfully than he has in a while. They both know, he hopes, that this won't last till morning. They both know what options he was considering back at their table, and this may be the most pleasurable, yet the most definitive of all. 

He didn't think she would take him up on it still. Who would want to sleep with him? Except for hookers of course, but he figures he's better than a lot of the assholes they deal with. Cameron could have anyone. She shouldn't want him. She sure won't want him anymore after this. 

"Mine's closer." Is what he says, grunts, instead. 

She nods, and tells him to get on the bike, then climbs on it too, clutching at him from behind. Which shouldn't be hot either, and yet here they are. 

When they get to his apartment, Cameron is silent, and he's snorting. Wilson left condoms on the closed piano, dead center, obscuring the Yamaha lettering with the garish colors of the box. It's ridiculous. It works out. 

What happens next should surprise him more than it does, but the truth it, when Cameron loops her arm around his neck and kisses him, he forgets that this is supposed to be ridiculous in many ways. He forgets he asked her out because she bargained for it, forgets he was nervous, too. When she kisses him, all gentle lips and eyes that flutter closed, he has to remember one is meant to close their eyes when kissing, and once he does, it's game over for any backing down. 

They limp to his bedroom together, uncoordinated and uncaring. The box of condoms bounces on the bed and they fall onto it too. Cameron's dress is pulled up to her waist, her pantyhose tearing under his nails. House's mind is on pause, and it feels good. 

It feels fucking great. 

Cameron braces herself on the wall behind him, kneeling over his lap rather than sitting on it while pushes his legs onto the bed, toeing off his shoes as he does. 

"Open your pants House." She says, and bites her lip, not out of shyness, he notes, but out of lust. It's there again, the earnestness that Cameron is made of, through and through. She's fully into this, so it's easier for House to follow suit. It's not like it will matter come morning. If it lasts till morning. 

He does as she's asked, his hands fumbling with his belt in this position, and then popping open the button of his jeans — she takes care of the zipper after batting his hands away. 

"How do you feel… about me?" She asks, just as she closes her hand around his cock under his boxers. 

She squeezes as he gasps and tries as hard as he can not to buck his hips, preserve some semblance of dignity. 

"How do you feel, House?" She whispers in his ear, brushing it with her lips in the ghost of a kiss. "Tell me." 

She strokes him, jerks him off inside his boxers, bringing him to full hardness in no time at all — figures. 

He tries to speak, he does, but for once, no biting words come forward, not even a snarky something. Cameron smiles at him, pulls his underwear and pants down and he helps her by scooting up. This should not be this hot either — she pushes her panties aside, he can barely see them with how her dress falls — she places his dick at her entrance and stalls.

"Do you like me?" She bites her lip again. If he didn't know any better, he'd think she was ready to cry, but he's the one who has to bite the inside of his cheeks not to when she sits on his dick with no warning. Nothing. She just takes him in and starts rocking on his lap, starts riding him for all he's worth. "Do you like… this?" 

She's out of breath and it's the sexiest she's ever been, and House… House doesn't want to talk. 

"Shut up." He whispers, and threads a hand in her hair at the back of her head, and kisses her this time. 

He bucks up to meet her back and forth. He winds an arm around her waist and tilts her head back to lick at her throat. She moans, she sighs, she rides him harder, fucking herself with wet squelches and sounds of skin slapping on skin every time she comes down. It hurts his leg, but not enough to do anything about it. It makes his dick pulse in time with her cunt contracting around him, the fact that she's too far down to keep caring whether he hurts or not — sweet Cameron who always cares about everyone and their moms. 

"How do  _ you _ feel?" He asks, grinning when she laughs and groans in the same breath. 

"Fantastic." She replies, and pushes him back flat against the wall long enough to pull her arms out of her dress and push it down to pool at her waist, right where he's holding onto her. She isn't wearing a bra. "Touch me." 

Correction, her boobs are just fine — they fit into his hands perfectly, and he plays with her nipples, erect under his thumb, and it pulls the prettiest noises out of her throat. 

They're both getting sweaty, and tired, and somehow it only makes them chase climax with more fervor. 

She leans back, using his knees to fuck herself on his cock harder, and he leans forward to take her breasts in his mouth, one after the other and back again. He licks and sucks and pinches and nibbles. She writhes, she lets out high-pitched noises that grow in volume and make House moan in return. 

They don't talk anymore and Cameron curls up against him again, looking him in the eye, red-cheeked and pupils blown. They're both so close, so so close. House tightens his hold on her, and he winds his fingers into her hair again, and they kiss, and they come. Tongues caressing each other and sweat slicking their movements, he shoots her inside her, and she contracts and spasms around him almost painfully hard. She makes choked up sounds and he groans long and loud. 

"You like me." She says barely loud enough to be heard as they catch their breath without moving an inch. 

" _ You _ like  _ me _ ." He corrects her, and smiles when she laughs. 

He shouldn't like her laugh quite this much. But endorphins are a powerful drug. It doesn't mean shit. 

She steals another kiss from him, and another, until she's traveled the length of his cheek and jaw and can whisper in his ear again, "Shower?" 


End file.
